


Tipsy

by LozaMoza



Series: Moments [13]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Drinking, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, M/M, OTP Feels, One Shot, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer lets her hair down, because Geralt and Yennefer, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25868668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LozaMoza/pseuds/LozaMoza
Summary: Yennefer gets a bit tipsy (no one's perfect) and tipsy people aren't the most coordinated.Especially while riding certain unicorns...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Moments [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806943
Comments: 31
Kudos: 59





	Tipsy

**Author's Note:**

> I've gotten a few requests for drunk Yen. Here you go, you crazies!
> 
> Yennefer my love, forgive me!

**Geralt**

Geralt crested the hill that overlooked his Corvo Bianco estate and he smiled. The sun was just setting over the ridge, and the estate was bathed in a golden light. The lush vineyards - revived to their former glory by both B.B. and Yennefer’s dedication - were tinged with pink and orange. The stream that ran through the property reflected the riotous colors of the evening light, and it reminded him of a piece of cut glass he had once seen that cast a hundred small rainbows across the walls. Geralt was not usually one to be overtaken by natural beauty, but the scene before him left him momentarily stunned. 

And none of it compared to what waited inside the house.

Yen.

After decades of longing and heartache and loss and hope, they had finally found the peace they had always searched for. It had been 5 years since Duchess Anna Henrietta granted him the estate and 4.5 since Yennefer came to live with him. True, this newfound peace had not always been easy. There had been arguments, loud and vicious, as they both learned to navigate this new life of living as one. Yet Geralt couldn’t help but smile at the fact that he could not remember the last screaming match they had. Slowly but inevitably, with the steady progress of time and the stubborn desire to stay together, they had discovered a rhythm they both fell in tune with. 

It’s true, there were no bagpipes, no trips to market to sell homegrown vegetables, and Ciri did not visit with three children in tow, but it was the house he had dreamed of so long ago, lying with Yennefer in Aretuza, bathed in the silvery light of a gibbous moon. It was their home, their ending, and it was perfect.

He spurred Roach forward, impatient to hold her in his arms again. 

*******

As he opened the front door, he was met with his favorite sound: Yennefer’s laughter. It was followed immediately by two voices he knew well, Regis and B.B. He had been gone for 3 days this time - the recent centipede infestation accosting vineyards in the northern part of Toussaint had been exceptionally difficult to cull - and all he wanted now was a bath, and meal, and her. He certainly wasn’t expecting company at this hour, and though he cared about both men deeply, he still needed to swallow his annoyance at the fact his initial plans had been momentarily interrupted. 

“Regis,” she laughed once more. “You cannot possibly be serious.” Geralt waited a moment, listening to them converse from the entrance hall.

“But I am, Yennefer. It was well over 250 years ago when witchers were far more common. This one was from the School of the Griffin, I believe, and uncommonly attractive. I’ll never forget the thickness of his mahogany locks, the smoothness of his young skin, the defined cords of muscles in his thighs.”

“Do go on, Master Regis,” B.B. replied greedily.

_ What the fuck had he walked into? _

“And are we to understand he fell in love with you?” Yennefer giggled again. Geralt had rarely heard her so unreserved. 

“As a matter of fact, yes, he did. He was young, naive, and in far over his head when he took that contract out on a higher vampire. Luckily for both of us, there was no bloodshed, only several nights of insatiable passion. He was a truly exceptional lover, as I understand witchers tend to be.”

“A rumor I can wholeheartedly confirm, at least in reference to my own witcher,” Yennefer said smartly. Geralt grinned at that.

“Well now I’m curious, is being with a witcher so much different from your normal human?” Geralt heard Regis and Yennefer laugh.

“My dear B.B., where to even begin?” Yennefer sighed. Geralt leaned in closer, determined to hear every syllable.

“Stamina,” Regis cut in. “Other than vampires, I would say witchers have the best stamina of any creature I have been with.”

“Oh Regis, you’ve been with many ‘creatures’? Do tell.” Yennefer giggled again _. Seriously, what the fuck was going on in there?  _

“Aren’t you a curious witch.” Regis replied.

“Indulge me.”

“Well, I am particularly fond of bruxas.” Geralt remembered this from his last time in Toussaint. “Then there are alps, and of course other higher vampires. Humans, succubi, a failed experiment with a siren, and once, when I was very drunk, a werewolf.”

“A WEREWOLF?!” B.B. exclaimed, but Yennefer was laughing so hard Geralt could hardly hear above her. 

“As I said, exceptionally drunk…” 

“Well, I personally appreciate how in-tune a witcher is to his partner’s responses. I appreciate it  _ very  _ much,” Yennefer continued. 

“I agree with that completely,” Regis replied. “I’ve never been with anyone so focused on my needs.” Yennefer simply hmmed in agreement, and Geralt found himself biting his lip with desire for her. 

“Do I detect a hint of longing for your lover of yore?” B.B. replied. 

“More of a passing dalliance as opposed to a true lover, but one I still hold quite dear. Alas, in the end, it was nothing more than two wayward ships passing in the night: raw carnality followed by inevitable loneliness and loss.” Regis paused. “Lucien. Lucien was his name.”

A moment of silence.

“To Lucien,” B.B. said solemnly. 

“To Lucien,” Regis and Yennefer replied in unison. A clink of glasses.

Geralt rounded the corner to take in the scene. Three bottles of wine sat on the table before him, and surrounding them, a very rosy-cheeked B.B. and Yennefer, and a rather relaxed Regis. 

“Seems like I’m missing a party,” Geralt said, looking around. B.B. sat to the left of the table. He had removed the ruffled collar he normally wore, and his usual sharp posture was relaxed into the chair while he nursed a glass of wine. Regis was on the right, his elbows leaning against the table, a wistful smile on his face.  _ Probably daydreaming of that Griffin witcher _ . And Yennefer sat in the middle. Her eyes, a warm and achingly-beautiful violet, flicked up at the sound of his voice. She bit her bottom lip as they looked at each other, and Geralt felt his cock respond. Her shoulders were bare, her curly hair long and wild, and he had to fight the urge to reach across the table and take her there in the living room. 

“Master Geralt!” B.B. responded. “Master Geralt, let me get you a glass. We are sampling the ‘74 vintage.”

“I can see that,” Geralt replied, not taking his eyes off of Yennefer. She smirked slightly. 

Regis watched them with a knowing smile. “My dear B.B., I believe we may have reached the end of our evening. Let’s give the master and lady of the house some time to get reacquainted. My lovely Yennefer, it has been a pleasure spending the afternoon with you. Thank you for inviting me to your beautiful home.”

Yennefer tore her eyes away from Geralt to look at Regis. She slowly stood. “Thank you for the honor of your company and the delectable pleasure of your conversation, Regis. You know you are welcome in our home any time.”

“ _ Almost  _ any time,” corrected Geralt. “Good to see you, Regis,” he said as he patted him on the shoulder. 

Regis laughed. “I know when my presence is no longer needed, my friend. Welcome home.” He turned to B.B., who was struggling to get up out of the chair. “Let’s go, my dear majordomo.” He took the man by the arm and led him to the front door. Geralt and Yennefer followed, her arm in the crook of his elbow, and every part of him felt inflamed by the thought of her. 

“B.B.’s home is the green one on the right,” Yennefer replied, and she hiccuped slightly. Geralt turned to her, surprised.  _ Odd…  _ “Will you be alright getting home, Regis?” 

“Please do not worry about me, Yennefer. I will be perfectly well. I must say, the ‘74 is quite an impressive vintage. I do believe you have a winner on your hands. It...what is the colloquialism? Packs a punch?”

She laughed. “Perhaps we do. Travel safe, Regis,” she said again, and closed the door. She cast a smouldering glance at Geralt before they both crashed into each other, mouths thirsty with need for the other. 

“Yen…,” he gasped as she bit his neck lightly. “Fuck Yen, what’s gotten into you?”

“I missed you Geralt, madly,” she replied, and gasped as he pushed her against the wall and buried his face into her hair. “3 days is far too long.”

Geralt couldn’t argue that. He lifted her skirts to sink his fingers into the wetness of her core and groaned. “Agreed,” he replied, his voice hoarse with lust. He started fumbling with his laces when she stopped him. “Not here,” she whispered.

“Where?” 

She gave him a knowing grin.

“Oh no… no no no. Not there.”

“Geralt, you promised me,” she replied in a leading voice. 

“Yen, the damn thing is awkward as hell, and I can hardly focus as it is…” she grabbed his hand that had moments ago been inside her and pulled it to her mouth. Giving him a sideways grin, she took them and carefully put her mouth over them, sucking them lightly. 

Geralt would have been wholly embarrassed by the sounds that came out of his mouth had it been in front of anyone but her. Witchers shouldn’t whimper.

“Fuck, alright, you win.” She bit the tips of his fingers gently, sending a charge of desire straight to his cock. As he backed away, she stumbled into him. He caught her quickly. “You sure you’re ok?” he said. Yennefer never stumbled.

“Of course I’m fine, stop asking me,” she said as she sauntered into the bedroom, hips swaying seductively. He followed her, his cock leading the way.

*******

The white unicorn stared at him, its glass eyes unnerving him as it always did. He hated the damn thing, but Yennefer seemed to enjoy it well enough, and who was he to piss and moan (too loudly anyway) when her only request was that he fuck her on the thing. True, getting purchase with his knees on the beasts flanks had taken some getting used to, but after trial and error and the reinforced leg supports Yennefer had added, they were better now. Still, they had a wide and glorious bed where he could take her anyway he wanted, and he would always prefer that. 

He quickly removed his clothes, his erection more than grateful to be out of the constraints of his laces, and hoisted himself on the poor creature. As it always did, the thing creaked in protest to his weight. 

“When are we getting rid of this damn thing?” he grumbled again. He watched in hunger as her clothing melted away in a shower of blue and silver sparkles. 

“You have your desires, I have mine, Geralt. Judge not lest ye be judged.” He knew she was talking about the trophy rope thing, and fuck if he wasn’t too embarassed to admit that her tying him up like that was by far the most incredible orgasm of his life. Thinking about it there, he felt the precum spill out of his cock a little. 

“Fine,” he muttered. He lowered his hand to pull her up and as he did, she nearly fell backwards. “Yennefer, be serious now, are you sure…?”

“Put your mouth to better use, Geralt,” she retorted back at him as she slowly laid back, spreading her knees before him, and damned if he didn’t have to admit the sight of her glistening and open bare for him made his mouth water. He bent down, wetting his lips, and put his mouth to her. She gasped in response, grinding herself into him, encouraging him to go faster, and he sped up the tempo of his ministrations. She was breathing heavily, grasping anything possible to get purchase, her back beginning to arch, and Geralt knew she was close to orgasm. She screamed in a choked-off cry, her hands flinging themselves to his hair to pull him closer as her body shuddered her release around him. 

And before Geralt knew what was happening, before he could catch her or stop her, Yennefer of Vengerberg fell off the unicorn. 

She hit the floor with a loud thump right on her hip, and Geralt panicked. “YEN!! YEN! Fuck are you ok??” He was off the wretched unicorn in a second, cradling her in his arms, his neglected cock forgotten. “Please Yen, please tell me you’re ok,” he whispered.

She started laughing hysterically. “What? How did I end up on the floor?”

“Does anytime hurt? Are you ok? Can you move everything?” he fretted. She wiggled her toes and fingers and giggled. “How much did you have to drink?”

“We were taste testing the 1274,” she replied. Geralt picked her up and carried her to the bed, then went to his wardrobe and found one of his shirts to dress her in. As he came back to her, she smirked at him, her eyes flickering down. “I thought the point of this was to wear less clothing. And you still need to be taken care of.” Geralt glanced at his cock; of course he was hard - he could still taste her on his lips and it made him want to bury himself in her - but there was absolutely no way he’d do that with her in this state. 

“Let’s worry about you right now,” he smiled. “Arms up.” She laughed softly and obliged, and Geralt resisted the near-overwhelming temptation to put his mouth to her bare breast. Once dressed, he fluffed the pillow and laid her head down, kissing her lightly on the temple. “You need to get some rest,” he said, “and I’ll get you some water.”

“I love you, Geralt of Rivia,” she yawned as she snuggled into her pillow. 

“And I love you, Yen,” he smiled back. 

When he came back with the glass of water, she was asleep. 

**Yennefer**

Everything hurt. Her head was pounding in vicious thrums, like there was a drummer beating a cruel chord inside of it, and her hip ached. _ What the fuck happened last night? _ Her stomach roiled and she fought the urge to vomit.

“Well, look who’s finally up,” Geralt laughed as he walked into their room.  _ Geralt was home? When did he get back? Wasn’t he on a contract?  _

“Geralt, when did you…?” hazy memories started fluttering into her mind like the brushes of butterfly wings. Taste testing an impressively strong 1274 vintage. Regis and B.B. and werewolves and someone named Lucien. Geralt’s mouth on her (that made her smile). The unicorn.

Oh gods, the unicorn.

She fell off the fucking unicorn. 

“It’s all coming back to you now, isn’t it?” he smiled as he handed her a drink of something green, as well as a bowl. “Here, drink this, it’ll help.” She downed the green drink and her stomach immediately retaliated. She vomited right back into the bowl, the contents smelling disgustingly of wine and pickle juice. “Works every time,” he laughed. “You all done? Got it out?” She nodded miserably and he took the bowl from her and left the room. When he came back, he had some apple juice and toast. “Once you get something in your stomach, you can try that again. It really does help. Old Kaer Morhen trick.” She took the juice gratefully.

“Did you take care of me last night?” she smiled as nibbled her toast.

“Of course I did,” he said as he tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “I was worried about you, especially after tasting some of that wine you were drinking. Shit Yen, that’s got to be three times the regular alcohol content.”

Her stomach knotted again. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“Do you remember details?”

“Some hazy bits. Regis and B.B., strange creatures like werewolves (Geralt chuckled), you, and the unicorn. I’m assuming that’s why my side hurts?”

“I’m so angry at myself for not noticing soon enough how out-of-sorts you were.” He looked down. “I’m so sorry, Yen. I never should have...”

“Darling stop. Don’t be upset. I’m sure I was rather insistent. I cannot remember the last time I was so out-of-sorts myself.” She put her hand to his cheek. “I don’t blame you, Geralt. I love you.” He smiled. “I love you, too.” He kissed her softly and took her plate of toast and juice and set it on the bedside table, tucking her in again. “Why don’t you go back to sleep? You need to recover. I’ve already cleaned up everything so don’t worry about that. Just focus on feeling better.” He made sure the shutters and blinds in the room were closed tight and glanced at her once more. “Get better for me so we can greet each other properly,” he smirked. She smiled despite the splitting headache. She didn’t even have the faculties to magically remove it. She needed more sleep first. Then she would remove the likely massive bruise on her side and whisk away any traces of this vile headache. Before sleep claimed her once more, a thought came to her, unbidden and perfect. She knew exactly how she could properly welcome Geralt home.  _ The rope he used for trophies.... _

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are, as always, so appreciated. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
